Page 161 of By A Thread
She studied me quietly. There was a war brewing behind those whiskey eyes.
“We can make this work. All of it. I promise you that. I just need you to say the words, Maleficent.”
She bit her lip as her fingers worried little circles into my biceps. I was asking her to trust me when I hadn’t ever given her a reason to. But I needed her to have faith in me.
“Give me a minute,” she said.
I dipped my head and traced my tongue over her earlobe. “Think about last night, Ally. That was real. We’re real. We can make this work. If you want to.”
“But how?”
I shook my head. “The how doesn’t matter right now. What matters is if you want this. If you want us.” On cue, my very smart dog wedged his face between us.
I was holding on to her too tight. I could feel her balanced on that ledge, and long seconds ticked by without me knowing which way Ally would lean. My Ally. She didn’t really have a choice. Neither did I. And I think we both knew it.
“When you say ‘this,’ what do you mean?” she asked.
“Us. Together.”
“Monogamous?”
I glared at her. “Yes. So don’t even think of that asshole Christian James again.”
“Both of us. Monogamous,” she repeated.
“Of course.”
“What else?” she pressed.
“Ally, I don’t fucking know. We’ll figure it out. We both want to continue having sex with each other and only each other, correct?”
“That’s not exactly romantic,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, well, I’m not really a hearts and flowers kind of guy.” I was more of a “fuck her in a dark corner until she screamed my name” kind of guy.
“This is crazy,” she breathed.
“It is.”
“And irresponsible and stupid, and we’re both probably just drunk on sex.”
“Life-changing, counter-defacing sex,” I pointed out.
Her lips trembled, then lifted. “I’m probably going to regret this.”
I held my breath and squeezed her arms.Say it.
“But I’m in. Let’s give this disaster waiting to happen a shot.”
Relief and something brighter, warmer, happier, lit me up from the inside. I picked her up and spun us around. Ally’s arms came around my neck and held tight.
“This is insane,” she laughed.
It was. And for the first time in my life, the insane choice felt like the right one.
Forty-five minutes later, my mother arrived in a subtle cloud of Chanel No. 5 and oversized sunglasses.
I took her coat while she showered her granddog with attention. “I still can’t believe you got a dog,” she said, straightening back into her elegant and proper posture.
